


The Dragonborn's Apprentice

by SerendipitousP



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Assassins, Daggers, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dragonborn - Freeform, Dragonborn's Apprentice, Dragons, F/M, Listener - Freeform, Night Mother, Romance, Sithis - Freeform, Skyrim - Freeform, Sneak - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerendipitousP/pseuds/SerendipitousP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You honestly think you could become anything without me?" His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword aggressively. "Oh, Dragonborn," I smiled, "I already have."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gein

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Heiwako](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiwako/gifts).



He laughed before he charged me. He always did that. Laughed. Cackled, really. Maybe because he knew how much less of a target I was than a dragon. He could shout me to death if he really wanted. He reminded me of that often.  


I sidestepped the blade. About my only advantage was how much faster I was than him, smaller too. Sanguine knew that. He never brought it up, though. At least not in a good way.  


"You're too skinny," Sanguine would scoff at me across the large oak table. He slid me a fat slice of horker meat. I tried not to smell it. "Put some meat on your bones."  


I leaped towards the framing of the house and climbed. By the time he had regained his footing, I had made it to his balcony, swaying my sword over him. "Looking for someone?"  


"Innocence," he boomed, "Get down here and face me like a man!"  


"But, sir, I'm not a man." I twirled my blade in my hand, as one would do a staff.  


"What have a told you about sass, Innocence?" Sanguine grunted, slamming his shoulder into the supportive wooden beam.  


"Sanguine?" I asked as the veranda shook. "What are you doing?"  


"And don't."  


Slam.  


"Ever."  


Slam.  


"Call me."  


Slam.  


"By."  


I fell as the balcony collapsed beneath me. When I opened my eyes, Sanguine was holding the tip of his Skyforge sword to my armored chest. "Don't ever call me by my name, Innocence. Or this blade will be in the dirt below you." He got up and brushed himself off. Then, like the hero he was, Sanguine said, "I am to be addressed as Dragonborn, nothing less."

...

"I hate Windhelm," Sanguine, or should I say the Dragonborn, said as we rode past a local farm house. The man and woman, both tending to their cabbages, waved at us. Or should I say waved at Sanguine. They never waved at me.  


"But sir," I laughed, "We've only just past Whiterun." He scowled. Whenever Sanguine would reprimand me in public, most people wouldn't say a thing. That or they would join in. But occasionally someone would show me compassion. They would always tell me the same thing. They would tell me that some people had been through so much in their lifetime that they couldn't take much more. I could believe that. When it came to the Dragonborn, he had lived enough life for 30 men. Probably more. Sanguine had fought more dragons than I had ever had the pleasure to see. But, Talos, how I loved seeing them. Giants. Wingspans the size of the solitude gates. Scales as bright as the Dawnstar bay. They were beautiful, really. Until they were trying to shout you're head off your shoulders, that is. But still, in those moments, dragons had a terrifying loveliness about them. I had told Sanguine this once.  


"That's a rather odd way of thinking," he scoffed, then smiled, "Especially for an insignificant mutt girl whose parents were both slaughtered by a dragon." That was the end of that.  


He grunted again, "I hate Windhelm. I hate the Stormcloaks," and so began another one of the Dragonborn's famous rants. "Always messing with the Emperor's law. If you hate Skyrim so much, go to Elsweyr. Drink Skooma and get drunk off your asses, that's about the only thing you're good for. Why, I'd say that I hate Stormcloaks almost as much as I hate the Thieves Guild. And I hate the Thieves Guild almost as much as I hate that Stendarr forsaken Dark Brotherhood." These types of conversations were always the same. Complain about evil. Fight evil. Kill evil. Be courageous. Yes, nothing mattered more to Sanguine than the destruction of all ungood. But still, he was bound to be a soldier of the law. And according to his oath, he was swore to help and protect any citizen of Skyrim, no matter what organization. Which is why he scoffed when he saw a broken down carriage in the middle of the road.  


"Ah! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here. Stuck! My mother, my poor mother, unmoving. At rest, but too still."  


"Problem?" I asked before Sanguine could take the opportunity to smite the poor man. He wore jesters clothing and his voice was shrill and sharp. If Sanguine weren't in his Imperial armor, he may have just killed him for disrupting their travels. He was like that. Always threatening to cut off my head whenever I burnt the dinner or didn't polished his Dragon Priest masks quite diligently enough. I had seen Sanguine do it to others too, but most weren't quite so fortunate. Sanguine had killed quite a few of his annoyances and if he wasn't in Legion attire, I was sure he would do it now. I could only wonder why I wasn't six feet under by now.  


The man looked at me as if he was looking at another person for the very first time. His wide eyes gleamed, almost with a certain realization. He must have been crazy.  


"Oh, poor Cicero is stuck, can't you see?" He finally spoke, softly, but without fear. "I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse," he giggled. "She's quite dead. I'm taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But... ah! Wagon wheel. Damnedest wagon wheel. It broke, don't you see?" I turned to face Sanguine whose face was shriveled up in disgust.  


"Why don't you go along, Dragonborn. I'll take care of this." I reached for the hilt of my sword and he smiled. That was really the only way to make him happy. Let the death of the unworthy reign. He nodded and rode ahead. I released my sword. I had no intention of killing anyone today.  


"Is there some way I can help?"  


"Oh," his face beamed and I was really able to look at him. Sharp imperial curves, tan skin, and laugh lines that looked like they had been etched there with a dagger. His cheekbones danced with him. It was quite refreshing from the normally hard faced Sanguine, who didn't quite know what a laugh was. "Oh, yes! Yes, the kindly stranger can certainly help! Go to the farm, the Loreius Farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools. He can help me. But he won't. He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!"  


I rode back to the farm we had past earlier, not because I wanted his money, but because I would hate to think that poor, yet undeniably insane, man would be stuck in the middle of the road. With the smell of a rotting corpse came wolves. And with Wolves came trouble. Hopefully, the farmers would remember that I was with the Dragonborn and would change their minds.  


"Oh, for the love of Mara, what now?" asked the farmer before I had even greeted him.  


"The, um," I had already forgotten his name. "little man really needs your help with his wagon."  


"That Cicero fella? Ha, tell me something I don't know. Crazy fools already asked me about five times. Seems he's not satisfied with my answer. Why can't he just leave us alone?"  


"So, what's the problem?" I asked, utterly deterred. I couldn't believe how rude these people were being. So, Cicero may seem a bit looney. He was still a person. "I'm sure he'll pay you."  


"Pay me? You think this is about money? Have you seen the man? He's completely out of his head! A jester? Here in Skyrim? Ain't been a merry man in these parts for a hundred years. And he's transporting some giant box. Says it's a coffin. Says he going to burry his mother. Mother, my eye. He could have anything in there! War contraband, weapons, Skooma! Ain't no way I'm getting involved in any of that."  


"He's a stranger who needs assistance. Please, help him!" I was starting to get angry now. So angry that my eyes started tearing up. I whipped them quickly.  


"And just who in Mara's name are you, anyways, hmm? Coming here and telling me my business. And for what? A... a fool?!"  


I was reaching for my sword now. "You know you should help him," I said through gritted teeth.  


"Look, I-I," he saw the glint off my sword and quickly changed his mind. "You're right. You're right. Fella might be nutters, might not. The fact is he needs help. I turned him away, what kind of a man am I? Look, um, thanks. And I'm sorry for my unneighborly reaction. If you talk to Cicero, you be sure to tell him I'll be down to help soon." He went back into his house, shortly after, I heard the rustling of metal tools. I quickly rode back down the road to where Cicero was sitting on the ground, head in hands. He popped up as soon as he saw me. I stepped down from my horse to greet him personally.  


"I talked to Loreius, he's agreed to fix your wagon wheel."  


"You... you did? He has?" His face lit up ever brighter than the first time. "Oh stranger! You have made Cicero so happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you! Here, here! For your troubles! Shiny, clinky coin! A few coins for your kind deed! And thank you. Thank you again!" I tried to shove a large bag of septum's into my hands, but I pushed back.  


"It really wasn't any trouble."  


"No, but you must take it! Cicero must thank you!"  


"I really don't need money right now. Really! I'm swimming in it." By me, I meant Sanguine. He was practically drowning in gold. When it came to money, we were practically married. What's mine was his and what's his was... his. If I came back with more gold than I left him with, he'd be curious as to how I had gotten it. And I didn't feel too much like explaining about how I let the fool live.  


"Then what do you need? Cicero can get you anything you want. Gold, fame, revenge! What is it you seek?" He paused, thinking, "a new life?" I said nothing. I thought nothing. Even thoughts could be dangerous. He saw through my stony gaze, turning me transparent. He giggled and slipped something into my open palms. Without warning, he kissed me on the cheek.  


"I believe I shall be seeing you again, Dragonborn's apprentice."


	2. Ziin

"So, how'd you do it?" Asked Sanguine drunkenly. The group of girls around him were hanging off his every word, and his every muscle. "You stabbed him in the gut, didn't you? No, you slit his throat! Did you cut his head clean off his shoulders?" The ladies swooned.

"Quick and clean, Dragonborn." I clutched the paper in my hands. It took the rest of the day and all the stamina my horse had in him, but I had finally made it to Windhelm. I found Sanguine exactly where I thought I would. Candleharth Hall, the local pub. 

"You ladies know I taught this one everything she knows?" Grammatically, it was a question but it came out as a statement. 

"Oh, Sanguine. You're so strong. Tell us again about that time you fought three dragons at once!" He never really minded when bodacious women called him by his name. Although, he could just be too drunk to hear them. You never know. 

"Oh, yeah. Hey, Innocence, you were there, why don't you tell all these lovely ladies about it?" 

"Actually, I don't think I was. I was just going to slip out for a bit, do you mind?" 

"What, are you jealous or something?" Asked one of the girls. The one wearing entirely too much makeup and rubbing Sanguines shoulders. 

"Of what, exactly?" 

"Jealous that Sanguine's so much stronger than you. He's a hero. You just carry the bags." I rolled my eyes. Did she honestly think her comment offended me. As if I hadn't heard that same sentence a dozen times before, just from a different set of technicolor lips. I got up to leave. 

_"Unt ni wah ofaal kotin naan ahkon, Stahr. Nid gein fen sav hi nuz zey,"_ I heard behind me. _Try not to get into any trouble, Innocence. No one will save you but me._ Sanguine loved using dragon speak. I had learned it well, but most of the phrases I knew only had to do with me being useless. And in the current situation, I was. I wouldn't be of much assistance while Sanguine drug a couple of girls into his room for the night. 

_"Geh, Dovahkiin."_ Yes, Dragonborn. 

I peeled open the slip of paper. Three words. Aretino Residence, Windhelm. No instructions. No hints. Just a name and a place. I had a strong feeling that jester knew that we were headed in this direction. 

The building wasn't anything special, just traditional Windhelm stone. I felt the wooden door. Cold. No one was home. 

Picking the lock was easy. I had lots of practice. It had taken me a while to get used to a sword and before I had gotten the hang of it, I would go out and buy daggers or bows. They are much lighter and I enjoyed carrying them, even though I had never learned to use them. Whenever I would return home, Sanguine would scream that bows were cowards weapons and daggers were for thieves. He would lock them in chests and I would be forced to pick the locks. But, he would always find them and lock them away again. Eventually, when my ability to pick locks grew beyond his ability to lock them, he began destroying my weapons instead. That's when he stopped allowing me to carry my own coin. 

The inside of the house wasn't special, either. It was dark and looked like it hadn't been lived in for a quite while. It was almost silent, the only sound was a quiet chant seeping through the floorboards of the upper quarters. With my hand on the hilt of my sword, I snuck my way up the stairs. Sneaking was another one of my hidden talents. Sanguine would tell me not to be seen or heard, but not for combat reasons. He hated when I interrupted his dinner parties, but I still needed to eat. 

The chanting grew louder and the dim light grew brighter. I leaned around the corner. A small boy was bent over decomposing human remains. The bile rose quickly. My unarmed hand covered my mouth to keep from throwing it up. 

"Sweet mother, sweet mother send your child onto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear," chanted the boy. His voice cracked around the vowels, as if he had been hunched over this body singing for hours. Sweet mother, sweet mother? Where had I heard that before? 

"Please," the boy's voice cracked again, "How long must I keep doing this? I keep praying, Night Mother. Why won't you answer me?" I stepped towards him and the unstable floorboards creaked under my foot. He turned quickly, the light illuminating his exhausted expression. 

"Finally, my prayers have been answered!" 

"Are you," I weighed my options. This boy didn't look old enough to kill a skeever, but then again, he did have a dead human corpse in front of him... "Alright?" 

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament over and over with the body and the... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!" I in took a sharp breath. The Night Mother. The Black Sacrament. The Dark Brotherhood. This must be a step up. I was about to be assassinated. I withdrew my sword, but the boy didn't even flinch. 

"I'm sorry, boy, but I'm not who you think I am," I said cooly. 

"Of course you are! I prayed and you came and now you'll accept my contract!" 

"Contract?" I asked. Was this not my deathbed? 

"My mother... she... she died," the boy said shakily, "I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to a terrible orphanage in Riften," he quivered. "Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her _Grelod the Kind._ But she's not kind. She's terrible to all of us! So I ran away and came home. And preformed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the kind!" ... 

My nerves buzzed as I opened the door to Honorhall Orphanage. Cicero gave me a contract for the Dark Brotherhood. That's what he meant by a new life. But I wasn't buying it. I wasn't going to kill some innocent old woman just because a young boy and a fool told me too. I was just going to talk to her. Tell her about the complaints of the boy, whose name I learned was Aventus Aretino, and hopefully bring him back to a happier home. Either way, he needed to live with adults. Live ones. I slipped out of Windhelm late that night. Sanguine didn't need me. At least not for a few days. He was off on Imperial business. And when he wasn't off on Imperial business, he was on female business. 

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating," I hear an old, gravely voice say. "Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, Grelod," recited a choir of miserable voices of all ages. 

"And one more thing, I will hear no more talk of adoptions. None of you riff-raff is getting adopted ever. Nobody needs you," she snapped. "Nobody wants you." 

I thought of the time I had spent in this very orphanage. I had waited day and night for someone to come and sweep me into their arms. The only thing that kept me hopeful were the encouragements that the mistresses provided. None of them were ever terrible like this. 

"That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you all will be here until you come of age and get thrown into the wide, horrible world." _Full of people half as mean as you_ , I thought. "Now, what do you all say?" 

"We love you, Grelod," they all said a little too fast and a little too mumbled. "Thank you for your kindness." She grabbed the nearest orphan, a girl, she couldn't be over the age of seven, by the forearm. 

"I can't hear you!" The little girl began to cry. Before I knew what my own body was doing, my blade was plunged inch by inch into the wrinkled skin of her neck. There was silence. There was the thump of her dead body. There was the clang of my sword hitting the splintering floor. Then there was the cheers of a dozen rejoice-filled children. I turned to face them, blood splayed across my high Imperial cheek bones. 

They had never quite figured out what race I was. My thin tips strongly resembled those of an Imperial while my strong, jutted chin looked as if I was all Nord. My black Imperial hair offset my Nordic blue eyes. 

I walked shakily to the door, my sword abandoned. It took every fiber of my being to run out the Riften gates, grab my horse and ride to Windhelm as fast as I could. _I killed an innocent person,_ I thought. _I'm just like him._ ... I used the heirloom Aventus gave me for my "work" to buy a drink for myself. I tried to sit alone and ignore my thoughts but should have known I wasn't safe in the pub. Only seconds after I had somewhat unwound came barging in an already drunk Dragonborn. 

"Innocence," he boomed happily, "where've you been?" He had two girls of each arm, each wearing a low cut wolf pelf coat. Defiantly gifts from Sanguine. 

"On business. I had some errands to run." He had already stopped listening. I looked away when he started the kiss down the neck of the red headed lass on his right. She giggled and I took a long chug of my mead. I was starting to get a little buzzed. I began to talk with the bartender. She recognized Sanguine's Imperial armor and said that when she was outside chopping wood, she liked to pretend there was an Imperial soldiers head on the stump. I giggled at that. 

"I've been looking for you," I turned to find a young Courier smiling at me, I smiled back. "Got something I'm supposed to deliver. You're eyes only." He handed me a tattered scroll. I unraveled the string and peeled open the scroll. My buzz disintegrated. Inside the letter was a hand print, splattered in a deep red. _Blood._ Two words were scribbled at the bottom. 

_We know._


	3. Sed

I crumpled the note and quickly stuck it into my sack. The bartender gave me a quick, questioning look but I dismissed her with a smile.

"A letter from my dear old mother," I lied. "I'm afraid she's rather senile."

I asked the bartender for a room for the night. There was no way I was staying out tonight. I was already exhausted from the long day I had had. I just wanted to sleep all of this away, then return to my life of training and running errands for Sanguine. For once, being the Dragonborn's apprentice didn't seem so horrid.

I tried to snuggle into the small cot, but tossed and turned for hours. I kept feeling like I was being watched. Finally, I drifted into a hard, needed sleep.

 _They know_ , I thought before the night drug me under, _and they're coming for me._

...

I woke up in a bed that I knew I didn't fall asleep in. I shot up and looked around quickly, my vision still blurry and my limbs still lead-like. I had been drugged with something, I never slept this heavy.

"Sleep well?" Cooed an oddly familiar female voice. My eyes and body snapped to attention. Someone was here with me. Lounging atop a shelving unit was a figure, clad in red and black. A Dark Brotherhood assassin.

"What? Where am I? Who are you?" I spat, unable to contain my nervous energy.

"Doesn't matter," I couldn't get over how familiar her voice seemed, "You're still warm, dry, and very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?" She laughed a small, satisfactory laugh.

"You know about that?"

"Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around. Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming, and you saved a group of urchins, to boot... but there is a slight... problem."

"A problem?" I had already done their dirty work, what could possible be the problem? If it was money, that's a joke. I only made 100 septum's off that heirloom. That I can easily repay.

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my assassins. Grelod the kind was, by all rights, a dark brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole. A kill that you must repay." So this was it, they were going to kill me after meddling in their business to keep their hands clean on the Grelod case. I was beginning to wish that I had just taken that little jokers money, or turned him into the Whiterun guards...

"Would you like me to murder someone else?" I asked, hopefully deterring her thoughts from slaughtering me. These were trained assassins. I may have been the Dragonborn's Apprentice but I was no match for someone as skilled as this. "Who?"

"Well now, funny you should ask," she said as if this was her plan all along. "If you'll turn around, you'll notice my guests," I spun on my heel. Three victims, all bound and blinded. I had been so preoccupied that I didn't even hear their moans for help. "I've collected them from... well, that's not really important. The here and now, that's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them, and that person can't leave this room alive. But which one? Go on and see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe... and admire."

"Alright, I'll do it," I balled my hands at my sides. I knew it was selfish, but I had to save myself. "I'll kill one of them."

"See, I knew we could resolve this civilly. A debt owed must be repaid. You understand that. Well, get to it then. Pick your guest and send the poor fool to the Void. I'll give you the key to this shack and you'll be on your way."

I slowly walked, or should I say wobbled, to the three victims. I wasn't ready to do this, but I had to. I squatted down next to the man furthest to the left.

"Who are you?" I asked shakily.

"My name is Fulthiem. I'm a solider. Well, mercenary really. You know a... a sellsword. I've lived in Skyrim all my life," his words came out quick and flustered. "That's all, I'm a nobody, really! So, can't you just let me go?!"

I moved to the next. I couldn't kill him. Even if he had killed many people in his mercenary years. He seemed too innocent.

"Who are you?" I asked, less quivery than the first time.

"None of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already! As Mara as my witness, if I didn't have this hood on right now, I'd spit right in your face," her voice was shrill and piercing. Yeah, this one I could stand to kill. But, no, she was annoying, not a convict. I moved onto the next.

"Who are you?" I asked, the shakiness in my voice returning. It had to be him, if not, I'd be the one to be killed...

"Ahh, Vasha, at your service," I could tell by the way he rolled his r's that he was a Kajiit. "Obtainer of goods, taker or lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I have my people carve my name in your corpse as a reminder." I reached to my hip for my sword. It was missing, abandoned at the orphanage, but a dagger had been fitted in its place. Faster than my body was used to, I plunged the dagger to the hilt into the cat's chest. I stepped away as he screamed. Once the screeching stopped and I was able to peel my eyes away, I heard the assassin began speaking.

"The conniving Kajiit. Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him."

"You told me to kill and I killed," I said, mostly to myself. That's two kills in two days. It's like I was killing for sport now...

"Indeed," she said, her voice as cool as ever. Almost like she hadn't just witnessed a murder. "You, my friend, seem to understand what's truly important. When I give an order to spill blood, you follow it. No questions. No remorse."

"So, I'm free to go?"

"Of course, and you've repaid your debt in full. Here's the key to the shack. But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level. I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my family, the Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct pass phrase: "Silence, my brother." Then you're in and you're new life begins. I'll see you at home, Dragonborn's apprentice."


	4. Hir

"You know," the Dragonborn said once we had arrived back at Lakeview Manor. As we rode through Skyrim back to one of Sanguine's many mansions, I grew increasingly aware of how close his manor was to the Pine Forest. And how close the Pine Forest was to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. "I could get used to Windhelm." He kicked off his boots and threw his giant feet up onto the table.

"Correction, you could get used to the girls in Windhelm," I said, setting a heaping plate of chicken breast in front of him. He ate much quicker than I. We were surprisingly able to get through dinner without him asking me where my sword had run off too. I had been smart enough to leave my blood drenched dagger behind. Eventually we retired to our separate rooms for the night.

I lay alone in my small bed, something I had done every night for years. I kept feeling like I couldn't breathe, like there was still the blood of a possibly innocent Kajiit down my throat. I got up and opened the window.

"Ah, good, Cicero will not have to climb down through the chimney," chimed the familiar, shrill voice of that psychotic jester as he hung upside down outside my window. I screamed and fell backwards, then covered my mouth for fear of waking Sanguine.

"Oh, don't worry about volume control. The fat one will be asleep for," he giggled, "well, quite some time." I gasped. "What?" He asked, tossing me an empty potion bottle. Sleeping serum.

"Is this the same stuff you used on me?" I spat.

"Oh, no. Astrid took care of you. Too bad, too. Cicero bets you're a very cute sleeper!"

"Astrid?"

"Oh, Astrid! She's the boss woman. Astrid's, the one who brought you too that little shack. She was also you're innkeeper!" Cicero swung back and forth by his legs, his arms hanging past his head.

"That's why her voice sounded so familiar."

"Yes, yes. Something like that. By the way, excellent work on that Kajiit," he giggled again, the poor fool was surely out of his head, giggling all the time. "Personally, Cicero would have just killed all three!" He burst into hysterical laughter. "That's what we ended up doing anyways."

"Why did you set me up?"

"Cicero does not understand what you mean."

"Why did you give me that address? The whole ordeal almost got me killed!"

"Oh, no! You misunderstand. Cicero thought that Innocence would make the most admirable assassin! Cicero was just trying to test your skills!" Even while explaining himself, he laughed as if he were telling Tamriel's funniest knock knock joke.

"You want me in the Dark Brotherhood?" I asked disbelievingly. As if. People don't just stumble into business's like this.

"Oh, but of course! Cicero knows that you will be just excellent at it!" I thought for a moment.

"How did you know my name?"

"Ah, but that is a story for another time."

Before I could object, Cicero grabbed my forearm and whisked me out the window. We dropped silently to our feet at the edge of the mansion. The crazed man ran, still clutching my arm, almost faster than my legs could carry me. Finally, he stopped.

"Hey, you can't just-"

"Shh," he said, motioning me forward. There was a slight thumping sound. And the silent wisp of expelled breath. When, I took a step forward, two red spheres illuminated themselves in front of me. Ruby eyes in a stone skull. The Black Door.

"What is the music of life?" Several voices whispered at once. The hairs on my neck raised as I looked to Cicero for help. He smirked at me and jutted his chin towards the door.

"Silence... my brother?" It came out pathetic and confused, but the door opened.

"Welcome home."

I cautiously tread down the dimly lit staircase. Cicero led the way, whistling and trotting with ease. This was his home, that was clear to see. The stairs finally ended and opened up into a foyer of sorts. There were a few book shelves and doorways leading further into the sanctuary. A large stone desk was situated in the corner. In one of the many doorways was Astrid, leaning against the frame as if she'd been expecting company.

"Ah, at last. I hope you found the place alright," she said coolly, examining her nails.

"So, what happens now?" I asked, partially because I had nothing else to say. I wasn't technically here by my own accord, Cicero was still standing behind me, swaying from heel to toe, looking as if he was a mutt who had just retrieved his master a pair of slippers. But I wasn't running away, either. I was drawn to this place somehow. And even though killing made me feel like a monster, it had also felt... easy. Natural. Almost second nature.

"Well, what happens now is you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You are part of the family, after all. This, as you can see, is our sanctuary. You won't find a safer place in all of Skyrim, so get comfortable."

"So, when do I have to kill someone?" I asked. Astrid mistook it for enthusiasm. Cicero did too. He let out an excited squeal behind me and danced about the majority of the room.

"Soon, my dearest. Soon. I'm arranging a job for you but I need some time. For now, go talk to Nazir. He may have some smaller contracts to tide you over." My stomach did a nervous flip. Great. "Ah, but one more thing. A welcome home present. May it serve you well in all your... endeavors." Astrid motioned me toward a shelf housing dark leather armor. The coat of the Dark Brotherhood. Astrid strode over to the desk and began working at the map.

"Come on, come on! Cicero can not wait to see you in that armor!" He pushed me through the sanctuary, up and down stairs, through a large pond and into an assassin-free room. Cicero gave me a sad look when I told him he couldn't stay in the room with me while I changed, but he left shortly after.

My worn steel armor fell with a clang. I pulled on the light leather armor instead. It felt soft on the inside and flexible all over. It felt... right.

"Ready or not, here Cicero comes!" Cicero sang as he threw open the door. His jaw dropped. "Wow. Cicero has never seen anyone look so... Cicero thinks he needs to sit down." He plopped down on the bed and quickly preoccupied himself by scribbling away in one of the many journals littering the room.

I turned and looked at myself in the cracked mirror. The uniform fit snugly just about everywhere and brought out my wide Imperial hips and my strong Nordic calves. I could squat and pivot with ease in this armor. I saw Cicero watching me in the mirror, his eyes the size of septums.

Finally, I had a place to call home. An escape. I was going to make something of myself without Sanguine. No, I was no longer the Dragonborn's apprentice. I was going to be Innocence. Innocence the Dark Brotherhood assassin.


	5. Hen

I followed Cicero into the main corridor. I hadn't really gotten the chance to look at it when he rushed me to his room. It was more of a cave than an actual sanctum. The stony walls were lined with tapestries, all displaying pictures of the Dark Brotherhood hand. There was an armory in this room, a waterfall too. But not too much else. Like the original room, several doors sputtered out into different directions, leading into unknown territory. Unknown territory most definitely filled with assassins.

"Oh, Barbette, but you are so wicked," a cool feminine voice cooed. A young girl, she couldn't have been over 10, smiled proudly. Proudly and wickedly with her sharp white fangs. Chills ran down my spine. A vampire? Part of the Dark Brotherhood? What more could they have up their leather gauntlets?

"What about you Festus? How did that last contract turn out?" asked the Redguard next to her.

"Oh, yes, please, old man. Regale us with your tales of wizardry," another said.

"Ah, the young and stupid," the older gentleman, whose name I was guessing must be Festus, said. "Always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract went very well, I'll have you know. Tried a new spell. Little something I've been working on in my spare time." He scrunched his fingers tightly together. "Came this close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy."

"And what about your latest Arnbjorn?" Asked the same woman as before. "Something about a Kajiit? Merchant was it?"

"Awh! A big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" Giggled the vampire girl. I wondered what age she really was. I was scared to ask.

"I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant. He was a Kajiit monk, a master of the whispering fang style," growled the man. The he smiled. "But now he's dead. And I have a new loincloth." The group of crimson-clad assassins laughed. It wasn't an evil cacophony like I had expected it to be. You'd except a group of people whose idea of a field day was to see who could find the most creative way to kill someone with a spoon to each have their own maniacal laugh. But they didn't. Their laugh was warm and friendly, like a family sharing stories at the dinner table after a hectic day. I looked at Cicero. He was practically on the ground, his cheeks a bright pink.

The group continued to share laughs and story's as the Redguard man turned to face me.

"So you're the newest member of our dwindling, dysfunctional little family," his voice boomed happily, though his choice of words wasn't necessarily the most upbeat. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, because I really didn't know what else to say.

"If you're still breathing in a few weeks, I'm sure we'll be the best of friends," Nazir smirked.

"Cicero has already dubbed Innocence _his_ best friend!" the jester said, grabbing my arm defensively.

"Innocence," Nazir said, disregarding the fool entirely. "That's quite an interesting name. I do wonder where you're parents picked that up."

"I don't know," I said shyly. "My parents died when I was little. I never met them."

"I see. How did they die?"

"A dragon attack. That's what Sanguine told me, anyways."

"Sanguine?" Nazir looked intrigued.

"You know... Sanguine. The Dragonborn. Destroyer of the Eater of Worlds. He adopted me when I was nine. He started training me and I became his apprentice. Well, more of less his slave but he tells other people that I'm an apprentice."

Nazir's face twisted in deep thought, then relaxed.

"I try to stay out of politics. I have a much deeper love for spreading my targets blood across the walls. Speaking of which," he took something out of his robe and handed it to me. "Here."

A scroll. Three names. Three locations.

"These aren't particularly glamorous assassinations. I'll be honest, they don't pay much either. But they'll keep you busy. When you've completed all those, we'll see if I have some more."

I nodded to him.

"And remember, Dragonborn's Apprentice," Nazir's low voice boomed. "Kill well, and often."

"Oh Cicero cannot believe you are going on you're first contract! Ahah! It seems like just this morning that Cicero was dragging you out you're window and into the darkness of night." He sighed. Closing my eyes and tuning his shrill voice out, I began to assess my situation. I was about to kill three people. Three people that could be innocent or guilty. Three people in which I have no connection to. Three people who have lives and families. Three people who are just like me...

Was this all worth it? Was it worth it to kill people by order just to start over? Starting over didn't need to be this difficult did it? I could have just left? I could have just moved to a small town and become an alchemist or a jewel seller, someone Sanguine would steel clear of. I could have left... couldn't I have?

...

"Innocence," Sanguine said angrily from across the table. I shrunk down in my seat. Maybe I had burnt the chicken breast. I couldn't afford to lose this home, I had only just gotten here. "Look at me." I looked up into his piercing blue eyes. "If you ever leave me, Innocence- I swear to Stendarr- I swear to Mara, Arkay, Dibella, Julianos, Kynareth, Akatosh, Zenithar... I'd swear to Talos and the Deadra too if they both weren't unholy and wicked. I swear that if you ever run from me, I will find you. I will hunt down every shop, pub, inn, and dungeon until I find you. Then," he paused. "I'll kill you. The sooner you realize that you belong to me, the sooner you can truly find yourself."  
...

I shook the memory away. Astrid said that this was the safest place in all of Skyrim so this is where I belong. I sighed and listened carefully to the sounds around me. Cicero's whistling. Water running. Grindstone spinning. Several voices humming. My eyes snapped open. In front of me was a smoothed out rock formation that I hadn't noticed before. Chiseled into the sides were characters. Dovahzull. I ran to it and began translating. I could only pick up a few words and phrases. I tired hard to focus. I knew that I had seen some of these letters before. I stepped closer and the wall began to glow. Three words. _Krii. Lun. Aus._

_Kill. Leech. Suffer._

A word wall. I had witness Sanguine step in front of dozens of these and be filled with the voice of the dragon. Those were the only times I thought that Sanguine looked beautiful, as soon as he harnessed the power. Before he had gotten to use it against them...

" _Krii. Lun. Aus. Kill_ , Leech, Suffer." I said aloud, hoping for some sort of response, yet knowing better than that.

"You can read that?" Cicero asked. I had just realized that he was standing right behind me. I felt his hot breath down my neck and shivered.

"Somewhat. It's _Dovahzull_. Dragon Speak. Sanguine taught it to me."

"You are a very interesting one," Cicero smiled warmly. "Cicero would love to see what else lies in that beautiful head of the Dragonborn's apprentice."


	6. Sok

As I made my way out of the sanctuary, I was careful to avoid taking any path that would cross Lakeview Manor. I thought about going back once of twice to snag my horse, but I decided against it. The journey would just have to be on foot.

Eventually, I had to check into an inn in Riverwood. Lying on the unfamiliar bed, I thought about the last time I had a full night's rest. I had been in an inn bed just like this. I had woken up in an entirely different place, though.

I took the folded scroll out of my satchel. Narfi, Ivarstead. Beitild, Dawnstar. Ennodius Papius, Agna's Mill. My first actual contracts. My past kills had been fueled by my own anger, this one was going to be fueled by coin.

...

I peeked around the corner of a cottage. Standing outside was the beggar, biting at the ankles of wayward travelers. It disgusted me, but not enough to kill him. My fingered danced anxiously around the hilt of my new blade. I had picked it up from the man working the forge in the sanctuary. He said his name was Arnbjorn and that he was Astrid's husband. He also addressed me as beef roast... probably due to the fact that he was a werewolf.

Astrid had been with me to pick out my blade. She had strongly recommend a dagger considering that was her weapon of choice.

"Don't think I didn't see your skill when you slide that dagger in between that Kajiit's lungs. That was natural talent," she had said, slipping the weapon into my palm. "It even fits nicely in your long, slender fingers."

I had still refused, stating that the sword was my weapon of choice. Besides, the weight of the steel sword I had gotten from Arnbjorn felt nice in my arms. It felt like a small tether to my past life. To Sanguine.

When I was sure that no one was around, I snuck up behind the man and, without looking, plunged my sword through his back. I waited until after the bloodcurdling cry and the slump of a dead body hitting the ground to open my eyes.

Narfi's eyes were still glued open and his mouth was frozen in a half scream due to rigor mortis. I stepped back, unable to pull my sword from his back, and ran. I didn't get far before a flash of red and black tackled me to the ground.

"Hello, Innocence!"

"Cicero?! Did you follow me?" He nodded quickly, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Cicero just couldn't wait to see how you handled the poor fool," he chirped ironically. "Although, Cicero has to say... it wasn't Innocence's best work." He frowned.

"What do you mean it wasn't Innocence's- _my_ best work?!" I inwardly gagged at myself. I was offended by someone telling me that my killing style wasn't good enough. The murderer mindset was already starting to set in...

"Well, the sword is more of a fighting instrument. We in the Dark Brotherhood do not normally fight. We simply kill. We live in the shadows. Your technique is fluently silent, yet your weapon is, how would you say, large and obnoxious."

"Arnbjorn used an ax. That's twice the size of mine!"

"Yes but you see, Arnbjorn is also a dog man. You are not. Innocence is a beautiful killer who deserves the most beautiful of weapons." Cicero pulled his face close to mine. He smelled of sweet rolls and oil paints. "The thought of Cicero allowing her to continue carrying around that big, bulky thing wouldn't be anything short of a sin."

"Well," I gulped, not sure how this fool had managed to convince me to abandon the only weapon I knew how to use, the only link to my past life, with just a short string of words. "I have always wanted to try the bow."

...

"Alright," Cicero whispered. "Ready?" I began to nod, only to quickly shake my head in the adjacent direction. I was shaking so bad that the arrows in my quiver rocked back and forth violently, making a maraca sort of sound.

"Can I, um, practice a little first?"

"Nonsense! I'm positive that Innocence will be just as good with a bow as she is with a sword, maybe even better!" He giggled to himself.

I was very relived that he had chosen a spot on top of the mountain next to Dawnstar, for he was being rather loud. I wasn't, however, excited to be shooting from such a far distance. I didn't know if I could make it.

I rolled the twine of the bow between my fingers before finally drawing an arrow and notching it. I began to pull back before I was so graciously interrupted.

"No, no, no! That is not how one draws a bow!" Cicero took the weapon from me and demonstrated himself. "Here now you try." I tried again but it didn't feel right in my grasp. He sighed and encircled me. His calluses hands ran down my arms and fitted themselves in the spaces my fingers did not reside in. I shivered, realizing for the first time in my life that I had never been so close to a man before. There was Sanguine, but his gestures were never this intimate. Not even close. I felt Cicero smirk against my ear. Using more of his skill than mine, we pulled the string back, aimed, and let the arrow fly. A startled cry sounded off from a place I could not see. Cicero clapped and sang happily. Another target was dead, but all I could think about were Cicero's arms being around me even though they were no longer there.

"Yeah," I said to Cicero and myself. "I like the bow." The fool smiled as me.

"As does Cicero, if it meant getting close to you like that again." He smirked. "But I have one more idea."

The whole travel to the small mill west of Windhelm was spent in surprising silence. No matter how many times I asked, Cicero would not tell me what his big secret was. Finally, when we approached Papius's camp in the dead of night is when he pulled out two short, ebony daggers. There patterns shimmered in the moonlight.

"These are Cicero's personal weapons. Or at least they were when Cicero was allowed to take contracts."

"You aren't allowed to take contracts?"

"No, but that is a story that Cicero will gladly share with Innocence after she shows him how beautiful those ebony daggers compliment her blue eyes." I took the blades from him and twisted them round my pointer fingers. They felt right. Not too heavy, yet not to light. And they had just enough reach to do a good amount of damage.

I crept silently towards the delusional man. He was standing upright, eyes bolting all around him. He must have been expecting us.

With one swift move, I held one dagger to his throat go keep him still while my other sunk deep into his stomach. He twitched and writhed for a while before falling limp to the ground. I turned to face Cicero, whose eyes were gleaming in the moonlight.

"Simply ravishing," he spoke softly, brushing away the droplets of blood on my cheeks, smearing them. "I think we've found Innocence's instrument of destruction."


	7. Zud

"Very nicely done," Nazir said, handing me a clanky satchel. I looked at him expectantly.

"You aren't going to put it back into the brotherhood?"

"Not all of it. This is your cut. 1500 septums."

"1500 septums?!" I could almost faint. I don't think I'd ever seen so much coin, let alone held it in my hand. I jangled the pouch, appreciating its weight. Maybe there was an upside to murdering on command.

"Don't spend it all in one place. Or do. I couldn't care less," Nazir shrugged and returned to his meal.

I skipped down the steps and into the main foyer, twisting Cicero's twin daggers between my pointer fingers. My body had felt lighter than it had in quite a while. I had a good amount of coin in my pocket and it almost felt like I hadn't been restless for days. When I closed my eyes, I didn't see the color of blood. I saw black. Simple, reliable black.

"But the night mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience and surely punishment?" I heard Cicero's voice ring from the main corridor, he sounded frantic. I rushed down to find him. He stood in front of a large wooden box. The same box he was transporting when I first met him. The brotherhood surrounded the scene. Astrid and Arnbjorn stood around him stiffly, as if they may need to take action.

"Keep talking, little man," growled the werewolf. "And we'll see who gets _punished_."

"Oh, be quite you great, lumbering lapdog," argued Festus, "The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil." He turned to Cicero. "Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition."

"Oh, what a kind and wise wizard you are," Cicero said with a smile of gold. "Sure to earn our Lady's favor."

"You and the Night Mother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving as your position as Keeper." Astrid's voice was cool and collected, as usual.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The fool literally jumped for joy.

"But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?"

"Oh, yes mistress! Perfectly! You're the boss!" Cicero giggled happily and began pushing the large crate to the stairs. I was about to offer him some help before Astrid's voice caught my attention.

"Ah, there you are. Good, I was done speaking with that muttering fool We've got some business to discuss."

"Do you have a contract for me?"

"I do, indeed. You must go to the city of Markarth and speak to the apothecary's assistant. You'll probably find her in the Hag's Cure, when the shop is open. The girls been running her mouth. Wants an ex lover killed. She apparently performed the Black Sacrament. Her name is Muiri. I need you to talk to her, set up a contract, and carry it out."

...

I found Cicero in a large room on the second floor. The sides of his crate were tossed in different directions and in the middle on the wall stood a tall stone cylinder.

"Is that her?" I asked. Cicero only stood there smiling. "Is that the Night Mother?"

"It is indeed, my dear Innocence." I was beginning to piece this whole quest together. The Black Sacrament. The hand. The Night Mother. They were all cogs for the deity Sithis. If Sanguine knew, he'd slaughter all of us, that is assuming that the amount of unholiness didn't knock him unconscious on his way through the door. Cicero and I stood in silence for a while before I broke it.

"I came to bring these back to you." I unsheathed the daggers and held them out to him. Cicero shook his head and smiled.

"A gift from Cicero to you. May they guild Innocence's hands through the chests of targets with ease." Silence followed, but not an awkward one. Just admirable silence.

...

I walked into the Hag's Cure and sighed, taking in the scent of nirnroot and fire salts. This was my first full contract. Finding the patron, find the contract, and collect the gold. Five people were now dead by my hand, and my hand alone. Sure, I had killed finished people off when Sanguine was too busy or lazy to do so himself. But they were all bandits and thieves. People worthy of being killed.

I found Muiri in the back of the shop, pacing like she was waiting. Waiting on a murderer.

"Muiri?" I asked nervously. This woman made a contract. A contract to have someone killed. She made just make one against me if I make one wrong move. She looked up from her pacing and gasped, pushing her hands through her hair.

"Are you the one?" I nodded, hoping that I was answering yes to the correct question.

"The Dark Brotherhood! Oh... my goodness, you're really here! The Black Sacrament. If actually worked!" She seemed a mixture of nervous energy and hope. Did the promise of another's death bring hope to the hopeless?

"Now tell me what you need." She explained to me that the man, Alain Dufont had wronged her in a time of mourning. How him and his cutthroat friends had been bandits disguising themselves as eligible bachelors. They had destroyed her relationship with the Shatter-Shields and her reputation as a whole. Muiri had called her here to bring justice to the unworthy. I was beginning to see why I had taken this job so easily. She had also requested that I kill a daughter of the Shatter-Shield clan, Nilsire. Why, she wouldn't say, but it was my job to carry the order through.

...

As I made my way carefully through the ruins of Raldbthar, the hideout of the bandit crew, I couldn't help but admire how good at sneaking I had become during these few days of on-the-job training. Sneaking around people instead of hitting them head on felt more humane and less nerve racking. It was almost as if I was becoming one with the shadows, like the night mother had wrapped me in a cloak of invisibility.

The kill was clean and easy as my new daggers sliced through the mans jugular vein as if it was made of butter. The smell of blood only lingered in my nostrils for a moment before I had forgotten about it entirely.

Killing Nelsire was slightly more difficult. Her clan was one of, if not, the largest one in the city of Windhelm. The giant mansion of a cottage they lived in had the most intense locks I had ever seen. I eventually picked it and entered the house, knocking over a chair halfway in and waking the contract. As she searched for me in the dark, I quickly slid my dagger through her stomach. She slumped to the ground with a blood curdling screech. I slinked through the window almost too quickly to grab my twice blood soaked dagger on the way out.

When I returned to the apothecary, Muiri seemed relieved, yet eager to get me out of her presence. She rewarded me with a pouch of gold and a ring and sent me on my way.

...

"How did everything go? Has Muiri's ex lover been _executed?_ " Astrid giggled cutely. Even through the Dark Brotherhood was a very diverse grouping, full of races from all different strokes of life, they all had one thing in common. There twisted love of dark wordplay.

"I did what had to be done. Nothing more."

"Of course, dear. Of course," she cooed. "And from what my little ravens tell me, you handled yourself quite well." Word got of two assassinations in one night must go around quickly, especially with friends like these. "Now I need your assistance with w matter of a more... personal nature."

"Is something wrong?"

"It's Cicero. Ever since he's arrived his behaviors been... well, erratic would be an understatement. I do believe he is truly mad." She squeezed her temples as if what ever problem the fool was causing wasn't worth the time it took to polish her daggers. "But it's worse than that. He's taken to locking himself in the Night Mother's chamber and talking to someone in hushed frantic tones. Who is he speaking with? What are they planning? I fear treachery. Dear sister, I need you to steal into the chamber and eavesdrop on their meeting. It'll be no use clinging to the shadows. They'll see you for sure. No, you need a hiding place. Somewhere they'd never think to look." She smiled a dastardly smile.

"Like in the Night Mother's coffin."

...

My breathing was tagged as I picked the lock on the giant stone tomb. I had no idea what lied behind the door, but I could only imagine that it was the rotting corpse of the mother of the night.

Her skin was a deep brown, although I didn't believe she had been a Redgaurd in life. Boney fingers crossed over themselves as she covered her barely clothed chest. Dry hair spilled out of her skull in strings. Cracked and decayed lips curled back, showing a holy row of yellowed teeth. Her head hung limply to the right and her eyes were sealed shut. She was terrifying.

I held my breath as I climbed in the coffin with her. With no choice but not face her, I pressed my back into the stone door so hard, I feared I may fall back into the humming man who had entered the room.

Cicero.

"Are we alone? Yes... yes, alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear is, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan." I listened for another voice to answer him, but there was only silence. "The others... I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex... perhaps even the Argonian and the un-child." If if weren't for fear, I just may have giggled at his nickname for Barbette. "What about you? Have you... have you spoken to anyone?" Silence. "No... no of course not. I do the talking... the stalking... the seeing and the saying! And what do you do? Nothing!" Cicero took a breath. "Not... not that I'm angry. No, never! Cicero understands. Heh, Cicero always understands... and obeys. You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you?"

" _Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero_ ," whispered a voice. I gasped, then covered my lips. Who was here? I didn't recognize the voice. A female, soft and snake-like. Hissing at Cicero. Or... hissing at me... " _Such a humble servant. He he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener._ " The Listener?

"Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will if you will not speak to anyone?!"

" _Oh, but I will speak_ ," sung the voice, " _I will speak to you, for you are the one. Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task- journey to Volunruud, speak with Amaund Montierre_."

"Poor Cicero has failed you! Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother! I've tried so very hard, but I just can not find the Listener!"

" _Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he's been waiting for all these years. Darkness Rises When Silence Dies_." And with those last words, my back fell through the stony tomb and onto the dusty floor.

When I opened her eyes, Cicero's Amber eyes glaring confused daggers at me. With one swift movement, he grabbed me by the collar, shoved me into the wall and swiped one of the ebony daggers at my side, pressing it to my neck. I shrieked at the pain of almost having my throat slit. If I took even a slightly too large breath, my jugular would be split it too.

"What? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself!" I took shallow, ragged breaths. "Speak, worm!"

"The Night Mother! She spoke to me!" I sputtered. His grip loosened.

"She... she spoke to you?" He looked at me for a moment before shoving me against the wall with twice his original force. The dagger cut into my skin slightly, choking me. "More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the listener. And there is. No. LISTENER!"

"Darkness rises when silence dies!" I shouted in a panic. Cicero stopped dead in his bell-toed boots.

"She... she said that? She said those words... to you? Darkness rises when... when silence dies." A smile crept across his tanned cheeks. "Those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero. Then, it's true! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you!" He laughed joyously. "All hail the Dragonborn's Apprentice! All hail the Listener!"


	8. Thiik

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't try and steal character traits from other authors but occasionally a trait is written so well that it accidentally becomes cannon in in my head. So I'm giving credit to Heiwako for creating the idea that Cicero cannot kill as a Keeper. Also the headcannon that he paints. Freaking love that headcannon.

Cicero clutched my shoulders tightly, as if he was checking for authenticity. He ran his callused fingers down my arms, up my torso, across my cheekbones, and through my hair. Using the black stands as a leverage device, he pulled my mouth to his.

I thought back to when I had met the seemingly crazed man. He looked small and vulnerable. He looked how I felt right now. Without my horse and without my bulky steel armor and sword, the three inch deference seemed like a three foot one. All it took was a hard peck to completely freeze me.

"By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over!" I pulled myself away from Cicero and looked towards Astrid. "Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!"

"I spoke only to the Night Mother! I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me! Oh, no. She spoke only to her! To the Listener!" The fool danced in happy little circles. He leaned in to peck the Night Mother on her rotting cheek. She seemed to smile, although her lips remained cracked and flakey.

"What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?"

"It's true, it's true! The Night Mother has spoken! The silence has been broken! The Listener has been chosen!"

Astrid shook her head and turned to me, seeking a more comprehensible explanation. "When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you'd been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Then what in Sithis' name is going on? Cicero said he spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool's rambling?"

"It's true. The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I was 'the one'."

"What? So Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else. Just... the Night Mother's body? And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener... just spoke. Right now... to you?" I nodded, unable to believe the entire situation myself. Why didn't the Night Mother speak to Cicero? Or more importantly, why did she speak to me.

"By Sithis. And... what did she say?" I proceeded to tell her about Amaund Motierre and Volunruud.

"Hmm? Listen, I don't know what's going on here," Astrid spoke sternly, "but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that? The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed. I... I need time to think about all this. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further."

After Astrid left, I turned to Cicero, who was happily humming to himself while hugging the Night Mother's coffin. I didn't want to disturb him so I quietly slipped out. All of my prior energy was gone, and I was almost positive that I was asleep before my head had even hit my pillow.

...

"We need to talk." My head shot up and slammed into someone's leather chest. Astrid's leather chest.

"Of course, Astrid," I said sarcastically. "What it is."

"Look. Something is happening here. I'm not entirely sure what that something is, but... Well, we need to find out. If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we'd be mad to ignore it. And I think we both agree, Cicero's brought quite enough madness to this Sanctuary. So go. Go to Volunruud. It's a crypt, pretty far to the northeast. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And let's see where all this leads, hmm?"

I forced myself out of bed, my limbs felt better than yesterday, which was good. Since joining the Brotherhood, I'd been sore more times than not. But it was well worth it. I could see that using those daggers had brought out the muscles in my forearms. Sneaking so often brought out those in my thighs. I was actually happy with the way I looked in the mirror, armor on or off.

Cicero stopped me on my way out. I couldn't make eye contact with him. I just felt too odd after the kiss.

"Where is the Listener going? Do you need anything? Food? Water? The souls of the undead? Where is the Listener going?"

"I'm going out to do a contract. I'll be back later." I tried to get past him, but he blocked my path yet again.

"A contract! A contract indeed! A contract for the Night Mother, might Cicero inquire?"

"Yes, a contract for the Night Mother, now Cicero, if you'd please move I have to..."

"Can Cicero come? Please, please, please, Listener?" He looked down at me through golden brown eyes, like a puppy might. Sighed, forcing myself to make eye contact. I had no idea what I was getting myself into and I might have needed the extra set of daggers.

"Fine."

...

Cicero turned out to be very useful. He killed every wolf, troll, and bear within a 30 foot radius, even the ones minding their own business. The only close call was a pack of dark elf bandits camping outside of Vulunruud's entrance. I sat back and waited for Cicero to turn them all to ash, which is why I just barely jumped out of the way of as an ice spear came hurdling towards my head. I looked at Cicero who was tiddling his fingers along the hilt of his daggers. He was kneading worriedly at his bottom lip. I took charge for the first time this trip and drove my dagger into the stomach of the nearest elf. I twisted so that I could use the corpse and a human shield.

"Cicero, do something!" I screamed to him. One of the bandits had torn away my cover and was starting to conjure a new spell.

"Cicero can not!" He shouted back. An elf ran toward him, his daggers crusted over with old blood. Cicero quickly side stepped the man and twisted his arm behind his back. With a deadly snap the bandit fell to the ground. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't able to get up either.

"What do you mean you can't?!" I rolled behind the spell caster and shoved my dagger into his lower spine. Blood splayed across my cheeks as he crumpled to the ground.

"Cicero can not kill people. Not as Keeper!" I turned to stick my other dagger into the incapacitated elf's chest. He died with a shriek. I tore a bit of the man's tunic and used it to wipe my face.

"Hair as black as Void, eyes as blue as Sovngarde, skin as white as dawn, and blood as deep as dusk. Could our Mother have chosen a more fascinating Listener? And you being the one they call Innocence, I would oblige to say no ," Cicero smiled at me.

"Being a keeper, how does it keep you from killing people?" Cicero sighed and smiled.

"Cicero used to kill well and often. It was a passion, as was the Night Mother. Nibenay, the old bag, she had tended to the Night Mother for as long as I could remember. I adored her admiration for Mother; I had never witnessed a stronger love. That was until I met Larsius. Nibenay's love for him grew stronger than her love for the Night Mother, so she ran off with him to his homeland. So, when she left I put down my daggers and took up my job as Keeper. And when the Cyrodiil sanctuary was infiltrated and I couldn't help my family fight back, I took the Night Mother and I brought her here." Cicero and I were sitting in the grass outside the crypt now, neither of us were ready to continue on just yet. He twirled a lock of my hair though his fingers absentmindedly.

"Why though? Why can't keepers still continue to take jobs?"

"As Keeper my feet shall walk for our Mother, my hands will do for our Mother, and my head will think for our Mother," he recited mechanically. "That's the vow you take when you become Keeper. There's more but it's long and unimportant. In a nutshell, my feet, hands, and head are only good for serving the Night Mother." His tone was sad for someone who cared so much for the Night Mother. "But, I would be lying if I said that I didn't occasionally imagine that the formaldehyde on my hands is the blood of a successful contract." He smiled nostalgically. "But, Cicero gets to serve his lovely Listener, so that is a plus." He tucked the lock of hair he was playing with behind my ear and caressed the back of my neck lovingly. For a jester, his movements were so experienced and surreal. I could only imagine the things these hands have been through.

"What exactly does a Listener do?" I finally asked. The question had been burning in my brain since that night in the coffin.

"Oh!" He looked quite happy to talk about this subject. "The Listener, well, listens. The Night Mother speaks to you. Guides you on your path. But when the Night Mother speaks, the listener must obey. You must! For her word is the will of Sithis. And Sithis is the Dark Brotherhood incarnate."

"Will the Night Mother speak to me again?" Cicero stared at me for a moment before bursting into hysterics.

"Oh, Listener. You do tell good jokes. Oh ho... Wait, the Listener is serious? Oh, well of course the Night Mother will speak to you again! She might speak now, or later, or... I don't know, but she still will. The Night Mother is part of you now. You get to hear voices inside your head!" He sighed. "The rest of us should be so lucky..."

"Cicero?" I asked, placing my hand atop his. "Did you want to be the Listener?"

"Oh... well," he shifted uncomfortably, "yes, I did. I did indeed. I tried to listen. Tried so very hard. But the Night Mother has never spoken to poor Cicero. The silence became almost," he shook his head, "maddening... But that was then, and this is now! You're the Listener, and the Night Mother wouldn't choose just any old Listener." He stood up and helped me to my feet. "Well," he said, "Is Innocence ready to start destroying the name of the Dragonborn's Apprentice?"


	9. Yed

Volunruud wasn't nearly as terrifying as I was expecting, it wasn't even comparable to most of the crypt's Sanguine and I had ventured. Most of the hallways were crumbled and blocked so I knew which ways not to go. The stony floor was littered with dead draugers and other dead cave dwelling enemies. Amaund must already be here. I stopped once I heard hushed voices behind a wooden door. I turned to Cicero who was clutching his daggers eagerly. He looked utterly disappointed when I signaled for him to stay out of sight, but he didn't complain. He sheathed his daggers and slunk into the shadows. I took a deep breath and pressed on the wood of the door. It creaked open cautiously.

"By the Almighty Divines, you've come. You've actually come. This dreadful Black Sacrament thing... it worked," Amaund, a well-dressed Breton, sighed with surprise and relief. "Right, then, I'll cut right to the chase. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually. I daresay, the work I'm offering has more significance than anything your organization has experience in, well, centuries."

"Go on," I choked out. I couldn't say too much, I was far to nervous. This wasn't a contract heard through the grapevine, this was a contract given to me by the Night Mother. I couldn't mess this up. Amaund's giant Imperial meat wall of a friend didn't exactly put me at ease either.

"As I said, I want you to kill several people. You'll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. I'm sure someone of your disposition will probably find it enjoyable. But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target. The real reason I'm speaking with a cutthroat in the bowels of this detestable crypt. For I seek the assassination of," Amaund looked up at me through lidded eyes and smiled," the Emperor." My heart caught in my throat.

"You want us to kill the Emporer... the Emperor of Tamriel?"

"That is correct. What I ask is no small thing, of course, but you represent the Dark Brotherhood. This is what you do, no? You must understand. So much has led to this day. So much planning and maneuvering. It's as if the very stars have finally aligned. But, I digress." Amaund extended his hand out towards the man next to him. "Rexus, the items." Rexus grunted and handed some wadded up scrolls to the Breton, who flattened them out and promptly tossed them to me. I unfolded the papers to find a shiny necklace wrapped inside. "These two items must be passed along to your superior. The letter will explain everything that needs to be done. The amulet is quite valuable, you can use it to pay for any and all expenses. Now, I must leave. Goodbye, child of the night, I do hope that you will do me this... payed favor. And if not for me, for your guild." Amaund and Rexus pushed past me without another word. I stood in disbelief for a few moments, attempting to comprehend what I was just asked to do. Kill the Emperor. The Dark Brotherhood was possibly going to _kill_ the _Emperor_. For the first time since joining the Brotherhood, I actually felt like an assassin. I turned to go and find Cicero but he was already right behind me, grinning from ear to ear.

"How much did you hear?"

"Oh, nothing really, only the part about the several contracts, all of which lead up to the assassination of Emperor Titus Mede the Second. So nothing. Nothing really." He was still grinning. Bouncing and grinning.

...

"You're joking." Astrid spat. I handed her the letter and the amulet. Her eyes grew wide as they scanned left to right down the page. "By Sithis, you're not joking." Cicero let out a boyish giggle. "To kill the Emperor of Tamriel... the Dark Brotherhood hasn't done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius. As a matter of fact, no one has dared assassinate an Emperor of Tamriel since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was two hundred years ago..."

"Surely the Night Mother wouldn't misdirect us..."

"No, she certainly wouldn't. And for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre's information to you. I don't know exactly what's going on here, if you're the Listener, or this is some kind of fluke, or what. But what we now have before us..."

"So we'll accept the contract?"

"You're damn right we'll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know fear and respect we haven't seen in centuries. You think I'd abandon an opportunity to lead my Family to glory? But this is all so much to take in. I need time to read the letter, and figure out where we go from here. And this amulet. Hmmm..." Astrid twisted it around in her fingers before handing it to me.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, taking it and examining it myself, as if I hadn't already done that a thousand times on the way back to the sanctuary.

"I'm thinking we need that amulet appraised. I want to know where it came from, how much it's worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it. And, there's only one man who can give us what we need, Delvin Mallory. He's a fence, a private operator. Works out of the Ratway, in Riften. Give me the letter. Bring Mallory the amulet. Find out everything you can, and sell it if he's willing. He'll offer a letter of credit, that's fine. Delvin Mallory and the Dark Brotherhood have history. He can be trusted."

"Is that what you wish for me to do?"

"Oh," Astrid chuckled deep in her throat. "That's not all I will be wishing for you to do. Now go. Take the next step in the Brotherhood's journey to the top. You're really making your mark around here, Innocence, soon, we will have to stop referring to you as the Dragonborn's Apprentice."

...

"I wish you'd quit following me on these things," I said to Cicero who was happily tagging along behind me through the musky sewer. Cicero took a moment to playful aim his bow at an unprepared skeever and shoot him dead in the eye. He swiped his ebony arrow back as he passed the rat.

"Well, if you didn't let Cicero come with you by choice, he would just follow you in the shadows. After all, it is Cicero's job as Keeper to keep you safe." I turned to face him.

"I thought it was your job as Keeper to keep the Night Mother safe." He smiled and took a step towards me, putting a hand on my cheek.

"Oh, but of course! But that was before the Night Mother gave me someone else to take care of, someone more... tangible." He growled the last word. Cicero leaned towards me, eyes lidded. My hand planted itself harshly over his lips. I could feel his mouth fold into a smile and teeth lightly nip my middle finger, he had anticipated it.

"Did you hear that?" I pulled away from Cicero and crouched into a squat. He followed suit. I peaked around the corner, but the two bandits there had already noticed us. I grabbed Cicero's bow and quickly shot two arrows into the chests of the men. The crumpled to the ground with a harmonious groan.

"When did you get so good with a bow?" Cicero said in awe.

"Well, it's like you said," I handed his weapon back to him, "I'm a natural."

"Cicero said that about the dagger."

"Oh, well than it must be the few hours of practice that I'm allowed when you're tending to the Night Mother."

"You can practice when I'm not tending to the Night Mother."

"Mhm, sure. If I tried to train with you in the room, you'd most likely take the weapon from me and spend the next few hours practicing for me." Which wasn't a lie, Cicero had become most attentive since I was deemed the Listener. He was almost servant-like.

"Would not!" he pouted.

"You would and you know it," I spat back playfully. "Sometimes, Cicero, I believe that you forget that I am an independent woman."

"Oh, Cicero know, Innocence." He smirked. "Cicero knows this all too well."

...

"Well ain't this a sight for sore eyes," the man, whom I assumed was Delvin Mallory said, eyeing me up and down.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, excuse her," Cicero added. He suddenly had a fiery look in his eye.

"The Ratway hasn't pulled in something this lovely since I don't know when. What can I do for you, Innocence?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Well, you are the infamous Dragonborn's apprentice, aren't you? We here in the Thieve's Guild make a point of learning important names from important residencies. Sanguine's and yours were easier to come by. Remember that key claw set you two used to be in possession of?"

"Is that where those went? The Thieve's Guild took them?" I asked in surprise.

"Not just the Thieve's Guild, me. I took that job. But that was before I was a 'behind the desk' worker. You're quite a lovely sleeper, by the way." A throaty growl whispered next to me. Cicero. Delvin payed him no attention. "How's the old Dragonborn treating you nowadays? He was never an easy fellow to be around."

"Actually, he's not. I was offered better opportunities... elsewhere."

"Ah, well that answers my next question," he scanned my Dark Brotherhood attire again. "Anyhow, what can I do you for?"

"What can you tell me about this?" I let the amulet fall from through my fingers, catching it by the golden chain. Delvin's eyes grew almost as large as the amulet, though not nearly as beautiful.

"Where oh where did you get this?" He turned the hunk of gold and jewels through his fingers and shook his head. "Don't answer, I don't want to know. This is an amulet of the Emperor's Elder Council. Specially crafted for each member. Worth a small fortune. Ain't something you'd give up lightly. Look, it ain't my business to tell the Dark Brotherhood its business, but if you killed a member of the Elder Council, you'd better believe-"

"Will you buy it?" I interrupted. I didn't need to know the gruesome details behind assassin work, nor the possible consequences. I was here to for the amulet appraisal only. Nothing more.

"Buy it? This? An Elder Council amulet? Oh yes. Oh yes, indeed. Wait just a moment," he took a piece of scroll paper out of one of his many leather pockets and scrawled something onto it. "Here. It's a letter of credit. Usable, by Astrid only, for any service or item I can provide. As per our standard arrangement. You bring that back to your lovely mistress. With my regards, Lass. I hope to be seeing that pretty face of yours again."

"Well, many thanks," Cicero said, quickly swiping the scroll out of the other man's hands and stuffing it into his pocket. "But I'm afraid that you will not be seeing this pretty face of hers ever again." Cicero grabbed my wrist and pulled me back through the Ratway.

...

As soon as I dismounted my horse, Cicero grabbed my forearms again and dragged me through the sanctuary.

"Cicero, wait! What are you doing?!" I whimpered. For once, it was night and everyone in the Brotherhood was either asleep or gone. Where were my nocturnal siblings when I was being chased through the sanctuary by a loon?

Cicero dragged me into the room where I had first changed into the shrouded armor. I remembered when he had looked at me with such curiosity and wonder. The thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably. To think that he called me a paradox.

"Cicero, talk to me! You haven't said anything since you snapped at Delvin."

"Sit," he growled, pushing me roughly onto the bed. He proceeded to begin removing his leather jester motley.

"Why do you wear that, anyways?" I asked, hoping to ease the tension.

"Shut up," he exhaled sharply through his teeth. I took the opportunity to look around the unidentified room. Clothing littered the floor, as well as several loose scraps of scroll paper. I picked up one of the many journals covering the nightstand. The cover had one cursive word printed on it. _Cicero._ This room must belong to him. 

When he was finished changing, he wore only dark brown tights that stretched half way down his calf and a white tunic. I had never seen him without his jesters armor and, if I was to speak honestly, I never wanted to see it back on.

He approached me with such a menacing ferocity that I stood and moved away from him. I backed up until I felt the cool stony wall behind me.

"What in the Void is going on with you, Cicero?"

"What in the Void is going on with me? What in the Void is going on with _you_?! Don't think I didn't notice that Mallory guy looking you up and down and fawning over the way you sleep! He was fattening you up with compliments like he was going to cook you and eat you!"

"Cicero, _you_ fawn over the way I sleep! And it isn't my fault that Delvin finds me attractive!" That was the wrong thing to say. Cicero pulled my already sore wrists above my head and slammed them into the wall.

"You could have said something! You could have told him to shut his damn, dirty mouth instead of demeaning yourself like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like some object. Like some whore!"

"So, because I don't stop compliments from an innocent man, I'm suddenly a whore?! What is _wrong_ with you Cicero? Last I checked, I didn't belong to anyone." Now I was really fighting back, pushing against Cicero's forearms as hard as I could. He budged, but didn't move.

"Yes you do," his voice was suddenly soft. Cicero let his arms fall to my hips. Then, as soon as it left, his ferocity flowed back into his body and voice. "You're mine." He attached his lips to mine and pulled me onto the bed behind him. "Mine."


	10. Ten

Cicero climbed on top of me and began undoing my leather armor. My mind told me to command him to stop, to push him off and hit him where it hurts. But I didn't. My heart, not to mention body, told me to let Cicero do whatever he wanted to me.

I didn't remember catching feelings like these for Cicero, but apparently, somewhere along this crazy journey, I had. Maybe it was the first time I saw his beautifully etched laugh lines. Maybe it was the protecting eye he always had over me. Maybe it was his soft lips ghosting over my neck...

"Cicero," I moaned. What was he doing to me? The man bit down on my jawbone. I worked my hands up his chest, peeling off his tunic. My finger tips kneaded at the flesh of his shoulders. For being so toned, the skin there was surprisingly soft.

"My Listener," Cicero gasped. My eyebrows creased, I repeated the movement. "Listener, please." He growled.

"Cicero?"

"What, what is it? What's the matter?" He lifted himself into a push up position. I took a moment to gaze at the sight before me. Cicero sat in between my still armored legs. His low riding tights did nothing to hid his growing need. I knew that he was shirtless, but I had no idea when I had followed suit. I felt so open and vulnerable and... right for once in my life. This wasn't a vulnerability that I had felt before. It wasn't defenseless, it wasn't exposed. It wasn't the empty, naked feeling that being around Sanguine gave me. That man could see right through your anatomy and laugh at what was inside. He could take your worst fear, your most repressed memory, and eat it for breakfast with a side of eggs. There was a reason he was chosen by Sovngarde to be the Dragonborn. His skin was made of scales and his eyes of daggers. His very soul was a shout, one that spoke 'fear me mortal.' 

"Listener, you're shaking. Speak to me," Cicero cupped my face in his hands. "No more silence, Listener. No more."

"Is that all I am to you?" My voice shook as hard as my body did. "A damned listener?"

"Oh, no! Not _a_ listener, _the_ Listener!"

"That's it? _The Listener?_ Why not Innocence? Why not _me?_ Why doesn't anyone see who's really under this skin? I'm not the Listener, and I'm not the Dragonborn's Apprentice!" I pushed Cicero off of me and grabbed my tunic off the cluttered floor.

"Listener, wait! Innocence!" I slammed the door to the Keeper's room and jammed it with a nearby chair. He shook the handle, but the door remained shut. I ignored the banging and begging coming from behind the barred door and ran, clutching my discarded tunic to my chest. I ran around in circles until I tired myself out, then I sat under the water fall and contemplated if I was as crazy as Cicero was. How did he end up so mad? Maybe in another life the Listener had fallen for the Keeper simply for the fact that he was the Keeper, and the title itself drove him to madness.

I drug my wet, naked body out of the pond and into the Night Mother's room. I thought about changing clothes, but I couldn't find the energy. So instead, I sat at the foot of the Night Mother's closed coffin and talked to her. Or talked to myself, I couldn't really tell. It was too late and I was too tired.

"Is this the price for being the Listener? Loosing your own person? And for what, voices in your head..." I cradled my damp shirt to my chest and let the tears finally roll down my cheeks. "But maybe that's a real steal... I've never really had my own person." Then, all at once, the air around me stopped, as if it was moving the second before. Two invisible arms wrapped themselves around me and lifted me to my feet. I opened the doors of the stone coffin and climbed inside. Although it was pitch black, I fell to rest with a last look of the Night Mother's glowing smile.

...

"Well, this is a sight. Wake up, we need to talk about the amulet. What did Mallory have to say? Is it authentic?" I roused myself and shook my head. All of last nights memories came back in an instant. They arose so quickly that I thought I might vomit. Then I realized that I was laying inside a coffin in front of my boss... shirtless. I quickly pulled my wrinkled tunic over my head and looked up at Astrid. She looked as unimpressed as ever, so much for the flirting that night at the inn...

"Yes, and specially made for members of the Elder Council."

"The Elder Council... Oh, now that explains quite a bit. Motierre, you naughty, naughty boy. Hiring the Dark Brotherhood to help you rise beyond your station. Delicious," now she began to look impressed. "Was Mallory willing to buy the amulet?"

"He was. Here's a letter of credit." I fished the crumpled letter from my pocket. I had completely forgotten it was in there when I had sat in the pond. Astrid took the note and squinted at the smeared ink. _Very professional, Listener._

"Splendid. Then we're ready to begin. Or, specifically, you're ready to begin. After all, you're the one the Night Mother spoke to. Now then, I hope you have something nice to wear, because you're going to a wedding." 

"A wedding?"

"Well, more like the public reception. It should be a lovely affair. You'll mingle with the guests, eat some cake, stab the bride. Oh yes. You've got to kill the bride. At her wedding." She giggled. "And they say romance is dead."

"Who's the target?"

"Her name is Vittoria Vici. She oversees the East Empire Company's business holdings in Solitude. The wedding is being held in that city, at the Temple of the Divines. Her death will cause an uproar, which is exactly what we want.

"You see, Vittoria Vici is the first cousin to our dear Emperor, Titus Mede II. Vici has obvious Imperial connections. Her husband has ties to the Stormcloaks. Their union is a step toward reconciliation. So if there's a murder at the wedding not only will it stall the peace process, it will send shock waves throughout the entire Empire. The Emperor's hand will be forced. He'll have to travel to Skyrim to deal with the aftermath, and he'll find the Dark Brotherhood waiting.

"Vici is likely to address her guests frequently, as is the wedding custom. Kill her when she does that, and I promise you a significant bonus. Now go. And give my best to the bride. This is a public kill. How you do it is entirely up to you. Arrow to the throat? Knife in the belly? Your choice, so long as it's loud and messy. Because of the current political climate, people are going to assume the murder is related to the bad blood between the Legion and Stormcloaks. In any event, when Vici dies, it's going to be complete pandemonium. Best have your escape route planned out in advance."

...

I thought through my plan a thousand and one times. This wasn't going to be easy, especially not alone, but that's the way it had to be. I packed a bag for myself and made my way out of the sanctuary, catching goodlucks and goodbyes as I went. Only one person did not address me on my way out.

Cicero's door wasn't barred anymore, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Not that it mattered to me. The less attention from him that I got on my way out, the better. I didn't need that dead weight following me on the way out. I was already going to be bringing enough dead weight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get lazy with translating the numbers for the chapters, Thu'um.org did.


	11. Eleven

Solitude was aptly named. From its worn cobblestone paths to its emptied shops and vendors, not a single soul was to be found among the capital of Skyrim. The usually bustling streets were calm, save for a few street rats who had scurried up from the sewers, hearing no sound footsteps to stop them. A sign creaked above me. Radiant Raiment, Skyrim's most popular clothing boutique, or so I'd heard. I hadn't had the pleasure of owning anything from there. Dented steel armor and torn, dirty tunics were more Sanguine's style. Maybe now that I had a few extra septims in my pocket, I would indulge myself. I curiously poked my head into the shops door. No seamstress, no merchant, no dresses on the shelves. I wasn't too surprised. Every fancy article must have been sold out due to circumstance. And with no dresses to sell, there was no need to stick around to sell them. Besides, you'd be a little late if you tried to buy a dress right about now.

A set of church bells rang in the distance, reminding me of my objective. I refastened my imperial shield to my forearm awkwardly. Imperial armor wasn't great for sneaking and it did absolutely nothing for masking the sounds of movement, but there was no way that I was getting into the guard tower without it. I picked it up from one of the closets in the sanctuary. They seemed to have one of everything there: guard armor, thieves guild attire, even mage's robes. But as they say, clothes make the man, and the man, or woman, I was trying to pass as was an imperial guard.

Passing the guards with ease was a nostalgic feeling, defiantly not one an assassin should have ever been used to knowing. I attempted to remain calm as I walked across the stone bridge which I would be scaling down in a few moments. A few moments. That's all it would take. That's all it did take, really. The draw of my bow, the notch of the arrow, the thunk of the arrowhead into the chest of the blooming bride. The ghostly anxiety that the city had once given me had just intensified. The turning of heads was almost audible. The creaking joints, the instant gasping, the delayed screaming, the rush of guards into the town square. I could hear it all. The only silence was the tranquility of finally residing in the shadows cast by Solitude's giant stone walls, the only place where I belonged.

I ran until my clanking imperial boots could carry me no further. I tore off my armor faster than I ever had and sank into the wet dirt below me. I killed the bride. I completed my contract. I survived. My fingers dug deep into the dirt. I was still apart of this world. The last thing I saw before slipping into impenetrable darkness was a satin gloved hand caressing my cheek.

...

When I awoke it was night. My cheeks and nose were chilled with the thin eventide air, however the rest of me was dangerously warm. I dared to open my eyes. A fur blanket was draped across me. I breathed in it's scent. Sweet rolls and acrylic paint. Pushing past the urge to fall back into another deep sleep, I sat up and scanned my surroundings. A satchel, a blanket, a fire, and Cicero. My face somehow lost all color and settled into a deep blush at the same time. He looked sad. Tired. Like he had been up all night. Perhaps he had...

"Cicero?" He didn't glace up. Instead, his eyes stayed glued to the purple mountain flower in his hand.

"Ah, Listener," a look of pain shot across his face as if he had been stabbed. "You are awake."

"Were you following me?"

"When will you learn, Innocence? Wherever you go, I'll follow," he paused. "So is my duty as Keeper, no matter how much you despise that." Cicero had already dropped his third person act. He felt so much more vulnerable like this. I felt as if I could almost see more of him. More of his light brown eyes, more of his oddly familiar muscles underneath his jester motley, more deep red oozing from his side.

"Sithis, Cicero! What in the void happened to you?" I rushed to examine his wound, but I sat up much to fast, sending stars flying across my vision. I swayed helplessly before Cicero took hold on my shoulders with ginger force.

"You're exhausted, Innocence. Here," he handed me a small vile, "drink this." I was about to refuse, but the dryness of my tongue and the growling in my stomach pushed past my doubt. I took the vile gratefully and chugged it down. The warm concoction tasted of purple mountain flower and netch jelly, with a salty hint of canis root. An energetic calm flowed through me followed by a wave of content exhaustion. If this wasn't Skooma, I'd be surprised. Cicero took the glass from me before it fell from my fingers.

"What happened?" I used my last breaths to ask.

"I left last night to gather supplies in case you didn't have the energy to make it home. I figured you'd forget." Which I had. "I followed you on the outskirts of Solitude to make sure that everything went well. I stayed behind while you ran to make sure that none of the guards arrows hit you." He gave a sad laugh, then flinched at the pain. "I had to shield you a few times." I tried to say something. Thank him. Tell him that he shouldn't have done that. Tell him that his life meant more than mine. But I couldn't. All I could do was fish my warm fingers through his cold ones and squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The potion that Cicero gave Innocence was a mixture of an increase stamina potion and a paralysis potion. It sounds counterproductive but it was to help her gain back her strength while she slept.


	12. Twelve

My second awakening was less of a shock than the first. Cicero's fire was now sleeping, silent embers burning lowly in the early morning air, the light they cast playfully dancing across Cicero's relaxed features. He was still asleep. Deep brown eyes fluttered carelessly under their delicate lids. His still armored chest rose and fell, sending a visible breath of air from his satin, vermilion lips. A pink tongue darted out between them and gave a soft assault to the bottom half. He shivered.

I rolled my eyes and dragged my heavy body to his. He really was a fool, following me all this way, taking arrows for me, nursing me back to health when he was the one who truly needed it. I fed my fingers through his again. They were still icy cold.

"He really cares for you, my Innocence." My fingers tightened immidiatly around Ciceros. The rough gravely voice tumbled across my ear drums, sending familiar vibrations through my bones. Familiar, terrifying vibrations.

"What- what are you doing here?" I didn't look. I couldn't. An armored boot rested itself on my shoulder and pushed down, pulling my body away from Ciceros. A steely leg followed the boot, broad shoulders followed the steely leg, and a masculine chin, dotted with blond stubble and menacing blue eyes followed the broad shoulders. Sanguine. The Dragonborn.

"It's nice to see you again, Love," he snarled. His boot pushed harder on my shoulder, sending shooting pains into my fingertips. I cried out in protest. He placed a large finger to his lips and shushed me. "You don't want to wake the poor fool. He's had a long night. Come on, Innocence. Let's go home." He pulled me to my feet by my sore arm. I pulled away and was surprised to find that I could. He looked surprised too.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm not going back. I have a home now. A family."

"That's not a family, Innocence. That's a bunch of murderers. They're barley even people!"

"What do you know about family?!" A deep laugh cackled in his throat, but didn't escape his lips. In an instant, the gap between our forms was closed. One hand threaded into way around me, gripping my hipbone. The other grabbed my chin roughly in his fingers and forced my eyes to his. I never thought I'd look into such a familiar iris again. I never wanted to.

"A lot more than you think, my Innocence."

"Sanguine," Cicero's voice, surprisingly stable, surprisingly sane, spoke from behind me. He was standing now, one hand balled at his side, the other clutching his wound.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did we wake you?" Sanguine smiled devilishly.

"I think it's about time you leave before you say something you shouldn't."

"What can I say that hasn't already been said, Cic?"

"Plenty," Cicero was practically growling behind his teeth. He reached for his dagger.

"And what do you plan to do with that? Slice me up a fish? You know as well as I do that you can't kill me." He laughed now. Actually laughed. Like there was a joke hidden underneath the layers of tension and anxiety and anger.

"No," he spat. Cicero poured a small vile into the daggers sheath. When he pulled out the knife, it was dripping black. "But I can keep you from hurting her." Cicero charged and the cacophony of clanging blades began. They were evenly matched: brute and brawn versus sleek and skill. Strong sword slashes were met by sly dagger folds. Light and darkness fighting for their lass. Neither of which entirely good. A step back and a swing above the head left Sanginue raw and open to Cicero's quick attacks. He went strait for the throat.

"Cicero, no!" I tried to stop him but it was too late. The fools dripping dagger was sunk a half inch into Sanguine's neck.

Sanguine sword fell from his fingertips and clanged onto the rock next to him.

"Innocence, listen," he coughed, blood splattered Cicero's cheeks. "A dragon- a dragon didn't kill you're parents." More coughing. More blood. "Cicero! He-" A gloved hand reached up to silence him. Angry eyes flitted up until icy blue irises gave way to white. When Cicero pulled his fingers away, they were painted red. Sanguine finally collapsed into the dirt.

"Cicero," I said through shallow breaths. "You- you killed him. You killed-"

"Relax," he pulled off his soiled gloves and threw them at Sanguine's body. "Sanguine's not dead, just asleep. I didn't cut into any arteries and I covered the blade in the same potion I made you drink last night. Purple mountain flower, netch jelly, and canis root. It's a stamina and paralysis potion. He'll be awake soon and when he is, he'll be ready to fight." He looked at me with deadly earnest. "We have to leave." He began to pick up our camp.

"Cicero," I asked, trying not to look at Sanguine's seemingly lifeless body. Trying not to wish it _was_ lifeless. "What was he saying? About my parents? About you? Have you two _met_ before?"

"It doesn't matter. Let's go. Now, Innocence." He didn't look me in the eye.

"How can you say it doesn't matter? This is my family! This is my past! Cicero, if you know something, you have to tell me!" Tears welled in the corners of my eyes and spilled hotly down my cheeks. This was all happening too fast. This was all too real. My past felt like a locked chest. All of my lock picks were broken and only two people had the key. Sanguine and Cicero. Neither of which seemed very interested in letting me have it.

"I said _now!"_ Sanguine's body began to stir. Cicero grasped me harshly by the hipbones and threw me onto his horse. He climbed quickly in front of me and snapped the reigns. We sped quickly, darting through trees and rocks, Sanguine's body falling further and further into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this story has a plot that isn't involved in Skyrim. There's A LOT of underlying plot that's about to float to the surface in the next chapter. You might just have to wait a month. ;) (I really am sorry for how long it takes me to update though. Really.)


	13. Thirteen

"The news is everywhere!" Astrid giggled delightfully. "Victtoria Vici the Emperor's cousin, butchered at her own wedding. Well done." I remained silent, as did Cicero which was a first. The knowledge of a successful contract would usually have the fool bouncing off the walls. But not today. Today, his face remained tired and somber. Today, he was not Cicero. "With Vici's murder, you've started us down a path the Dark Brotherhood hasn't traveled in centuries. The assassination of an Emperor. And now, your reward. A unique spell to summon a legend of the Dark Brotherhood. His soul serves us now in death as his body once did in life. Ah, and of course, the bonus, for killing Vici while she addressed her guests, as instructed. Gold...simple and pure. Spend it as you will. Now then, time to proceed to the next stage of the plan. Go and speak with Gabriella. She's been helping me arrange your next contract."

When Astrid parted. I followed Cicero down the stairs and into his room. He began to peel off his bloodied clothes, seemingly unaware that I was even in the room. I coughed slightly to grab his attention.

"Oh, _Innocence_ is still here," he said melodramatically without turning. He had known. He just didn't care.

"I know you're angry at me for being so reckless, but we both know that you have some things to tell me."

"Cicero has nothing to tell you. Cicero has nothing to tell anyone. Cicero is an open book."

"Cicero, stop that." I crossed my arms and dug my nails into my sides. "This is important. How did he know you couldn't kill anyone? What was he saying about my parents? Have you and Sanguine-"

"Don't say his name!" Cicero barked, finally turning to me. His eyes were brimmed and overflowing with tears. "What you fail to see, _Innocence_ , is that it isn't important. What you fail to see, _Innocence_ , is that sometimes the past needs to be left where it is. What you fail, and have always failed to see, _Innocence_ , is that this isn't all about you!"

"Stop saying my name like that!"

"Like what?!"

"Like I'm some child! Like I'm some belonging! Like I belong to him!"

"Because you do belong to him Innocence! You always have!" Silent tension floated on top of the air like oil and water. "I want to tell you. I want you to know everything about yourself. But I can't. It isn't my place to do so."

"But you can Cicero..."

"All I can tell you is yes. I have known Sanguine in a time before this and you in a time before now. And even though you have grown and matured, I recognized you instantly from the moment I laid eyes on you on that broken little road by Whiterun."

"But how? I've never met you before."

"Alas, you have. But you were young, perhaps only two when we parted ways. I never thought I'd see you again." His a small smile spread across his sad features. "But the Night Mother has many ways of bringing people back together again. Through Sithis's will, she has brought back the light in my life that I had once lost."

"What do you mean 'parted ways?'"

"A story for another time perhaps. Right now, you have larger things to attend to. When the matter of the Emperor's death is moved aside, the matter of your past is brought to attention. I promise, you will know everything soon enough, just maybe not as soon as you wish it to be.

...

I dragged my heavy feet along the musky floors of the sanctuary. Walking alone was something an assassin should be used to feeling. But not this assassin. This assassin was accustomed to a light-stepping pair of red and black poulaines by her side, craved it even. Solitude felt difficult and heavy. But it must be done.

Though I needed to stay focused on my mission, my mind couldn't help but drift to yesterday. Dialogue replayed itself over and over in my head. Sanguine's gravely voice ground into my eardrums while Cicero's high vocals pierced them. Over the cacophony, a faint chanting was clear.

_'A dragon- a dragon didn't kill your parents. Cicero! He-'_

And silence. A slithery, reptilian voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Ah, you're back. It was good to fight alongside you. I'm sure people won't be forgetting that wedding anytime soon, hmm?" the Argonian hissed. Although his voice was chilling, it had a hint of comfort to it. Like an old friend that you hadn't met yet.

"Oh, hi. Veezara, right?"

"Veezara indeed." He smiled, showing two rows of perfectly pointed teeth. "Nice to finally meet you."

"What do you mean fight along side you? You were in Solitude?"

"You didn't think we only had one set of Imperial armor did you? Well... actually we did only have one. But now we have more. A lot more." He scratched the back of his neck and laughed like he was embarrassed. It was actually somewhat endearing.

"Well, thank you for helping. I really couldn't have done it without everyone here. You all are so amazing at what you do."

"Us? Look at you! Taking on contracts before you're even a member, speaking to the Night Mother, killing the Emperor of Tamriel. You'r the amazing one."

"I haven't killed the Emperor-"

"Yet," Veezara smiled. His eyes flickered with admiration. Reptilian hands took mine and squeezed lightly. Scales against flesh. His skin was like his voice, surprisingly comforting. "But you're going to do great things Innocence. I can feel it!"

"Yes, we all can. And to make sure that these great things go as planned, Innocence mustn't cohort around while there are targets still breathing." Cicero's voice was cool and collected now. Veezara turned to face an impatient looking Cicero. Instead of becoming frustrated, he only sighed.

"But of course. I wish you the best of luck on your next mission, Innocence." He smiled and went on his way.

"Well, that was rude." I said to Cicero.

"Rude doesn't exist when time is ticking, and it sure is ticking. It's time to put your incriminating evidence implantation to the test."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Cicero smiled.

"You're going to kill and frame Gaius Maro of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scaly Baby.~


	14. Fourteen

"With the Emperor's arrival in Skyrim now a certainty, his security service, the Penitus Oculatus, will need to begin its preparations immediately." Gabriella was diligently stuffing items into a bag for me. Papers. Weapons. Poison. There was never a shortage of murder tools in this place. "Security is being handled by a Commander Maro. Astrid and I have devised a plan to break the man, and in doing so, cripple the Emperor's protection. You are to slay the commander's son, Gaius Maro, and once he is dead, plant false evidence on him, implicating him in a plot to kill the Emperor.

"Killing Commander Maro would do no good. Someone would merely replace him. No, we need him to remain in charge. But...distracted. Weakened. Implicate and kill his son Gaius, and the commander will be grief-stricken and humiliated, his family name ruined. The security plan will then fail. Best yet, the Emperor will be lulled into a false sense of security, thinking an assassination plot had already been discovered and foiled.

"He is set to leave the Penitus Oculatus outpost at Dragon Bridge, and inspect the security of each city in Skyrim. Go there now. Observe Gaius Maro's departure, and follow him. Waylay him in one of the cities, and send his soul to Sithis. Once he's dead, plant the incriminating letter on his body, and let fate take care of the rest. Oh, and one final thing... To earn your bonus, do not kill Gaius Maro in Dragon Bridge, or on the road. Kill him in one of the other major cities he'll be visiting. There, the body will be discovered quickly, as will the letter implicating Gaius Maro in the plot to assassinate the Emperor. Do that, and Astrid has authorized me to grant you a rather unique bonus. It is a special token, to be given to Olava the Feeble, in Whiterun. Olava is an old and dear friend, and a powerful seer. The token entitles you to a reading of your future. It's an opportunity one should not pass up." Gabriella smiled as if she knew something that the rest of us did not.

Conversation was scarce on our way to Dragonbridge, although I should have assumed that it would be. Cicero wouldn't let me travel alone now that Sanguine was aware of the situation and out for blood. I complacently agreed, partly because I didn't feel like arguing with the fool and partly because I knew he was right. Cicero and I made our way inside of the inn and had a seat at the bar. As I was about to ask the inn keeper if she'd heard any news about Gauis, a smile tore across the young woman's face as she ran to the entrance.

"Gauis!" She shrieked, scooping the younger of the two men approaching the bar into her arms. The older man turned and I saw his face. Commander Maro. After a few moments of kissing and coddling from the couple, the men resumed their conversation.

"Father, you worry too much." Cicero sipped his drink loudly and I hushed him. "I'll be fine."

"I know you will," spoke Commander Maro. I had met him a number of times traveling with Sanguine, and his voice was about the most noticeable thing about him. Rough, deep, and everything you'd expect a six foot something Imperial commander to sound like. "But all the same, remember everything I said. Stay alert, and when you get to the cities, make your observations and move on."

"I understand," the younger man said, his words muffled as the inn keeper kissed his cheeks repeatedly. That must've been his son. That must've been my target. "But you're being paranoid. I'm inspecting security, not charging off into battle. There's not a lot that can go wrong." Cicero snickered behind me and I jabbed him with my elbow.

"Son, when the Emperor's safety is concerned, anything could go wrong. Off with you, now. And good travels."

"Farewell, father. I'll return as soon as I'm able."

"Well, this is it, then," the woman said, finally pulling away. "Look after yourself, Gaius. You're doing your duty, and I'm proud of you. But you'd better come back to me. You hear?"

"Oh, Faida. I may travel alone, but you know I carry you always in my heart. I'll see you after I come home from Windhelm." They kissed once more and then parted ways.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Faida, the innkeeper, said blotting her eyes with her blouse. "What may I do for you."

"Oh, nothing," I smiled at her politely. "I already have everything I need."  
...

"You know," Cicero whispered as I lined up my shot. The streets of Windhelm were packed with people. With witnesses ready to find his body in a gutter within minutes. "That could be us."

"What are you talking about?" I wondered if he was referring to a previous event or if I had just missed a few words that he said.

"I'm talking about Gauis and his little inn keeper."

"What about them?" My arrowhead followed his body down a set of stairs but not around the corner of a building. I sighed.

"Their love. Their passion." I looked over as he smirked.

"Yeah, too bad that you," I leaned in spoke against his lips, "don't really know who I am."

"Oh I know who you are alright," his breathing was heavy. "You're a minx."

"And?"

"And you're Innocence."

"Good." I smiled. He smiled back. "Now we're getting somewhere."

We scaled the rooftops until we found Gauis, slumped against an ally wall tangled with a bodacious blond. They roughly necked for another few moments before he handed her a satchel full of coins.

"Meet me inside, love." She spoke, taking the coins and tucking them into her breast. The woman turned the corner and entered the inn. Before he could follow, my arrow imbedded itself in his...

"Oh, right in the giant's toe!" Cicero said, grabbing his own nether region. "You finish up here, Cicero does not know if he can look for much longer."

I took out the letter and tucked it angrily into his pocket, not caring too much if it was crumpling.

"Still wanna be them?" I asked Cicero.

"Why would I want to be them when I can be us?"


	15. Fifteen

"Innocence! You've done it again!" I was met with Veezara's cool reptilian lisp as the door to the sanctuary.  
"Done what?"  
"Succeeded in yet another contract! Don't you ever rest? You look like you deserve a little rest and relaxation. Actually," he turned to Cicero. "Will you give us a moment?" Cicero, with a collected smile, simply turned and walked away. Very un-Cicero-like. "Innocence, I know that we do not know each other well but... I would like to. Maybe we could go somewhere outside the sanctuary and maybe, well I guess what I am trying to say is-"  
"Don't be so nervous, Veezara. It's just me."  
"I know, I know," he tucked my fingers into his taloned ones. "What I'm trying to say, Innocence is... could I possibly court with you sometime?"  
"Oh," I said, attempting to pull my fingers away and finding that I particularly didn't have the heart too. Veezara was sweet. Tame. Predictably so. I thought of a future with Veezara and could see the comfortability of it all just by the way he had approached me these past two occasions.  
Cicero however... He was feisty. Wild. Ready to pounce at any second. Sure he was obsessive and possessive and animalistic but... those were all the things I loved about him. I may have hated his constant "Listener" callings, but... what would I do if they stopped? Sure I was the Listener, but I was _his_ Listener.  
Veezara squeezed my fingers in anticipation, awaiting my response. I looked into his surprisingly soft reptilian eyes. About the only thing the men had it common was that fact that I knew neither of them would ever leave me when I needed them.  
"Veezara, that's very sweet, but-"  
"Ah, at last," Gabriella cooed, "I've been anxiously awaiting your return."  
"G-gabriella," I sputtered, wishing that any of the people in this guild had some sense of privacy, "Gaius Maro is-"  
"Dead, I know. As does Astrid. You have done well, and have earned both your reward, and a bonus, as I may have mentioned. But you should know that we have a more pressing matter to deal with. It's... Cicero." Gabriella looked flustered and as she ceased her talking, I could hear shouting and the clanging of blades in the other room.  
"You're a fake! A phony! A copy of my Listener! No... worse. You are the scum on the bottom of her boot! You are-"  
"Cicero!" I cried. Cicero and Astrid were intertwined on the floor, Cicero crushing her with his lean Imperial muscle. The tip of his dagger was pressed against her throat, a dollop of blood leaking into the crevice. It was a miracle that she was able to breath without slicing herself wide open.  
Cicero's eyes quickly fluttered towards me, looking even more hurt and urgent.  
"Innocence, you've got to listen! Astrid! She isn't good! She-" Arnbjorn took this moment of distracting to kick the fool off of his wife. Astrid coughed as Cicero quickly regained his senses. That's when he saw Veezara and my own hands still intertwined. A moment of silence passed through the air before Cicero lunged. Veerara grunted as Cicero's blade sliced diligently into the lizards chest. Gabriella cried out, catching Veezara as he slumped to the floor.  
I looked at Cicero and he looked back, neither of us able to say a word. Neither of us able to know what the other was thinking.  
"Protect yourself," he said, then sprinted from the sanctuary.  
"You think you can run, damn fool?!" screamed Arnbjorn, surrendering care of his wife to Festus and running, on four hairy paws, at the jester.  
"Wait, Arnbjorn!" Astrid shrieked followed by a series of harsh hacks. "Damn it, this never should have happened! We knew better. We knew better, and still we let our guards down. Agh!"  
"I'll admit," Festus said, using a healing spell, then wrapping Astrid's wound. "Even I'm having a hard time disagreeing with you..."  
"The fool went absolutely berserk! He wounded Veezara, he tried to kill me, and then he fled. I knew that lunatic couldn't be trusted."  
"It's true, I'm afraid. Cicero was a little whirlwind, slashing this way and that. It would have been funny, if he weren't trying to murder us all," Festus added.  
"Don't forget the ranting and raving," Nazir added, who has run in with more supplies for our healers. "About the Night Mother, how she was the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood and Astrid was just a 'pretender.'"  
Astrid stood shakily.  
"Look, we've got to deal with this situation. You've got to deal with this situation. I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life! But first...find my husband. Make sure he's all right."  
"B-but," I stuttered, trying to think of any other words besides 'end his life.' "What about Veezara?!"  
"He'll be okay," Gabriella said, fingers dancing across the wound with a red elixir, only slightly more cherry than his blood. "The cut was shallow, surprisingly so. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the fool actually cared about the rules of being keeper and tried specifically to spare his life." As soon as the words left her mouth, I knew that must be true.  
"Search Cicero's room," Astrid said. "Maybe there's something in there that sheds some light on where he might have gone. Let me know the minute you find something. I've got to see to Veezara, and calm everyone down."  
"Bested by a fool. Who's the fool now, hmm?" Veezara almost sung. I was sad to see him in such a state, but at least he was alive.  
"Hush, Veezara. You were very brave. Astrid may well be dead if not for you," Barbette cooed.  
"She's right. I'll be forever in your debt, dearest brother. Now be quiet. Just... just rest."  
"When life gives you lemons," Nazir spat," go murder a clown."  
...  
I rummaged through the slightly familiar space of Cicero's living. Clothes, tapestries, and canvas paper littered the floor. Everything looked normal, not at all like he was planning on leaving.  
I couldn't believe what had just happened. One minute, Cicero and I had just returned from a successful contract, then next, he had gone crazy. Slashing and stabbing at whoever angered him. I wonder what Astrid had done to upset him so.  
In my hazardous search, I accidentally knocked all of the papers off his desk. The mess fluttered effortless to the stone floor. All except four leather books. The cover of one of the tomes fell open and Cicero's messy cursive writing was visible.  
_30th of Sun's Dusk, 4E 200_  
_I have finally arrived in Skyrim, after years of unsuccessfully trying to recreate my Mother's work, I have finally admitted defeat. Now it is time to bring Mother to a new home so she can be at peace once more. Maddening... silencing... peace._  
This must have been Cicero's journal. I quickly fished through the papers on the floor, scooping the other three hardbacks into my arms.  
_It has been a difficult 13 years, and even as his face fades from my mind, yours remains in all its purity. I find myself praying less and less for the deaths of the unworthy are more for your safety. How the years as keeper have turned me soft._  
I flipped through the pages, forcing any questions that arose back into my throat. I knew I needed to find him quickly. I just didn't know what needed to be done after that.  
_5th of Evening Star, 4E 2o0_  
_It seems that I have hit a bump in the road, both metaphorically and physically. One of the wagon wheels had hit a large rock right in the middle of the path! And after walking quite a ways back down the trail I originally came in search of help, I received a rather rude decline from a rather unhelpful farmer. But wait, could this be another traveller? There must be a kind soul in Skyrim. There must be._  
The 5th of Evening Star? That was the day I met Cicero. The day my entire world turned upside down.  
_A kind soul indeed, a sight for oh so very sore eyes, with all the purity of a babe and all of the maturity of a seasoned widow, it couldn't be but it very well is... my Innocence! I cannot hear her, but I know the Night Mother is smiling this day!_  
Cicero knew? He knew my name, my face, who I was before I even knew? My head began to spin. I flipped through until the dates became recent, suppressing another load of confusion and curiosity.  
_22nd of  Morning Star, 4E 200_  
_So much joy and happiness have I acquired here. My Mother, my Innocence, and, always full of surprises, my Listener! And yet... no family. This Sanctuary still stood. Still operated before the Listener. But how? No Listener means no Black Sacrament, no Black Sacrament means no contracts. Her family can abandon the Old Ways, and still survive, still kill, but is that family still Brotherhood? Or something else? Something new. Something different. Something wrong?_  
Something wrong.  
_There was another Sanctuary once. A Dawnstar Sanctuary. Good, ancient and strong. Blessed by Sithis. Cicero will go there! No need of Astrid! The only thing Cicero needs is Mother, himself, and his Innocence._  
_23rd of Sun's Dawn, 4E 200  
 ____This sanctuary may be full of blasphemers, but it is also full of the riches of undiscovered knowledge. After hours of searching through books, scrolls, and tombs the passphrase is mine! I have found it, in a letter ancient as the Sanctuary itself. The Black Door will ask "What is life's greatest illusion?" I am to answer - "Innocence my brother." And how ironic a name... it is almost as if my beloved belongs there. But I belong with my beloved, whom would never leave her family. But one cannot blame her... after all she has endured... after all she's lost..._  
I swallow the lump of inquisition in my throat and press on to the last entry.  
_1st of First Seed, 4E 201._  
_It is time. No longer will I wait for my Listener to fall. She must understand.  We must go, Cicero and Innocence. I am not the Listener, and never will be. But I am the Keeper and as Keeper, I must protect my own. It isn't about the error of Astrid's ways anymore, nor the beauty and necessity of the Old Ways. I hear her every night when she thinks everyone is asleep, plotting, pondering. I don't know what she's planning, but I know it can't be good and I know I cannot stop it. I can only hope to convince Innocence. She is oh so stubborn, especially when the truth lies in plain sight. But she must listen, she must understand._  
"I know what you're thinking," said Veezara. I turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, barley able to support himself but still alive as ever.  
"Veezara, you shouldn't be standing," I walk towards him and take him by the elbow. He rips it away instantly.  
"Don't be an idiot, Innocence." Every once of comforting Veezara charm is gone, melted by harsh Argonian ferocity. "I know how you feel about that bastard. Don't go ruin your life here because you think he's going to requit any of your feelings. He's a maniac, Innocence. He's incapable of love."  
"You don't know anything about him!" I wanted, no, needed to swallow the words as soon as they carelessly tumbled from my lips. Veezara smiled and shook his head.  
"It's your call, Innocence. You have a chance to do the right thing. But if you make the wrong decision," he leans in close. I can smell the healing elixirs still on his tongue, "you better not show your face here again. Don't betray your family for a fool." He starts to walk away, leaving me in a daze before turning back to face me. "And by the way, Astrid's got a little gift for you outside."  
Exiting the sanctuary, I am met with the fiery gaze of two red eyes resting in a midnight sea. The being is large, even for a horse, it's legs meeting almost to my shoulders. His fur is so dark, the texture cannot be determined. He huffs, scratching the dirt.  
"What is it?" I ask Astrid in awe. She pulls a strand of mane out of the beasts eyes. It nuzzles her gratefully.  
"This is Shadowmere. Beautiful, it's he? Let's just say he's... one of us. Take him. He's the fastest horse you'll ever have the honor to ride. Find Arnbjorn. Make sure my husband's all right. And then send that jester's twisted little soul to the Void, in as many pieces as possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so the journals are non-canonical. As is most of what I'm saying but you know. This chapter took me so long, goodness.


End file.
